i am your worst n i g h t m a r e
by lead me to salvation
Summary: In which Achilles is first haunted, then angered, then amused by the girl he couldn't save.


_A/N A slightly odd, slightly cracky piece, mainly based on The Song of Achilles and set before Briseis is captured. Enjoy!_

She comes in the middle of the night, small and silver and angry, ripping him out of his dreams. Her eyes bore holes into his, and he feels like he's falling into Tartarus. Next to him, Patroclus sleeps on, peaceful, breathing heavily through his mouth. Achilles reaches blindly for his sword even though he knows it's across the other side of the tent, and in any case, there's no way he can kill a shade. He knows this. She does, too.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Don't you recognise me?" she says, her voice heavy with false cheer. There is black blood seeping from the rip in her skin, soaking into the lightness of her dress. He can see through the edges of her smile. Of course he does. Her face will be imprinted on the back of his eyes and her screams will be ringing in his ears until his dying day. He'd have to be buried in the depths of hell to forget her, and perhaps not even then.

"Iphigenia." Her name tastes like sand on his tongue.

"Funny," she says, petulant. "I would have thought you'd forgotten me by now."

He shakes his head. He'll always remember; it'll never leave him, the way her blood splattered against his chest. He tries to calm his breathing. He's always in control. He's invincible, the best of the Greeks, he can't let himself be scared of a _ghost._

"You can be scared of me." It's as though she's plucked what he's thinking straight out of his head. She steps closer and settles herself on the end of his bed, crossing her arms and her legs and looking smug.

"Why are you here?"

"It's none of your business," she tells him with all the flippancy of a little girl.

"If you came to talk to me, then it is definitely my business."

"My, the size of your head is quite extraordinary. Maybe I didn't come to talk to you." Her giggle is like the wind through leaves. "Perhaps I came to scare my dear father and I felt like visiting both men who failed me in one fell swoop."

The guilt is like lead around his ankles, weighing down his heart, even after all this time. He tries to keep his expression neutral.

"Since everyone in the Mycenaean camp is fast asleep I assume you haven't."

"Urgh, you know everything far too well. Fine, I came to talk with you." She flings herself backwards across Patroclus' feet, floating upwards and hovering a few inches above the bed. Patroclus snuffles and turns over, reaching out a hand for Achilles across the furs. Achilles looks down and weaves his fingers through the other man's.

"Well, you're going to have to make it quick, girl. We're fighting again tomorrow."

"Shut up. You're not going to be killed by lack of sleep."

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to see you, alright? Don't be so snappish."

"Why?"

"I know what's going to happen." She smiles like a toddler, all _I know something that you don't, and guess what? I'm not going to say anything._ He feels his hackles rise. She's probably just here to torment him, to wave her knowledge around as revenge for when he stood by and did nothing as the priest drove the ceremonial knife into her heart. That thought still doesn't stop the curiosity that writhes restlessly on the tip of his tongue.

"What?"

"I know the outcome of the war. We all do."

"How?"

"You're too blind…" she half sings. "Too blind, too blind, too blind."

"Iphigenia…"

"I can't tell you, if that's what you want."

"You are, without a doubt, the most irritating…"

"Oh, I know. Aren't you pleased you didn't marry me?"

"I would have preferred to marry you than see you _killed._ "

"It's not too bad in the underworld. All sunlight, spilling everywhere. I think you'll like it."

"You're crazy."

"I'm dead."

He snorts, and shakes his head. She casts a lingering look over to Patroclus. "You know, I'm quite pleased I didn't end up marrying you. You're much happier with him than you would've been with me."

"I would've been a good husband to you."

"Please, you were already married."

"How do you know that?"

Her grin shows off all her teeth. "Deidamia is good company."

"My _wife…_ "

"Is dead, yes. You didn't know? Oh, I'm so sorry. She died in childbed. You have a son. Didn't you know that too?"

"Iphigenia, please."

"You're not even sorry."

"Fine, no. I'm not. Deidamia and I were never close."

"Well, we talk about you a lot. She says you were a complete boor but she forgave you because you were so handsome and so good in bed."

He laughs. "That sounds about right."

"Don't let your boorish tendencies get in the way of what's right."

"You are proving more and more cryptic by the second."

"I can't say it straight out. I'm not supposed to meddle. Just…try and keep your head straight. Don't do stupid things."

"What do you mean?"

"Just think about it, alright?"

"Iphi…"

"Don't." Her eyes are ink dark, suddenly, and shimmering with tears. "Love him well, alright?"

"Alright."

They watch each other for a second, the ghost-girl and the best of the Greeks, and then she leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead. It feels like rain and cold and dew on the grass in the morning, and when he opens his eyes, she's gone.

Patroclus finds him like that in the morning, sitting on the edge of their bed and staring into space.

"What's the matter?" he asks sleepily, reaching up to pull Achilles down for a kiss.

"Nothing. Just…odd dreams."

 _Please review :)_


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